Postcards from Albania
by dancy
Summary: Sometimes love is just plain evil. TylerChase, TylerCaleb.
1. Postcards from Albania

This is likely a one-off, though I do have a sequel in the works. I don't own the intellectual rights to any of the mentioned characters, places, or ideas, but if I did I would have written better dialogue in the original film. The fic is slightly AU with the film's timeline, but it makes for better pacing. They should have considered it.

Sometimes love is just plain evil. Tyler/Chase

**Postcards from Albania**

If Tyler Simms had been honest with himself, he would have kind of known that this was a bad idea, even in the beginning. Charming, feisty, sarcastic men had a tendency to be, well. Feisty. He'd learned this the year he turned thirteen, when that brat Johnny Finch had made out with him while Finn Stephenson had snuck into Tyler's bunk and stolen his step-dad's Metallica tape. It had broken Tyler's heart in that I'm-never-randomly-making-out-with-you-again, pre-teen sort of way. If the tape had wound up a smelly, malformed mound of clear plastic and magnetic tape welded to the inside of Finn's walkman, well, Tyler had no idea how that happened.

After his step-dad had found out that Tyler had the tape in the first place, he'd flipped out—mildly. It was only a tape, after all. That was the last time Tyler went away to summer camp on his own, but it was worth it—revenge was a dish best served melty.

Past experience notwithstanding, he wasn't a deep enough individual to be capable of turning down the affections of a dark-haired blue-eyed suitor when he received them. Even if he was pretty sure that Chase Collins was totally unhinged. It wasn't that Tyler really lacked in moral fiber. He was honestly kind of a goodie two-shoes—to be childish about it. He did his homework on time, he got back to the dorms well before curfew, he even had been known to help old ladies cross the street in downtown Ipswich. Mostly for money, but the inherent kindness of the deed stood out, he thought.

* * *

It was one night after swim practice, early in the semester. Tyler had a headache, and was moving kind of slowly—so when Reid had suggested that they all head out to Nicky's, Tyler had just waved them on. He had taken an extra-long shower, relishing the fact that fewer bodies in the shower room meant the water was slightly warmer and the pressure was better. He had expected to be alone in the locker room by that point, though after the fact he kind of felt he should have expected the unexpected.

The abnormal was the normal in Ipswich, after all.

"Do you always let them shove you around like that, or is this a one-time performance?" If it wasn't for the fact that he was so used to towel fights and other shenanigans in the gym, Tyler might just have lost his towel. He wrapped it around himself a little tighter, laughing a little, dryly, trying to play off his surprise.

"I wouldn't say they push me around. I didn't want to go." Chase made a stifled noise in his throat, like a laugh but dryer somehow, and Tyler raised an eyebrow. "What? I have a headache."

"Is that what you say to all the boys?" Tyler rolled his eyes. So he was going to turn out to be another one of those homophobic assholes. Tyler didn't say anything, just sliding his shirt on, following it with his shorts. He was toweling his hair dry—an oddly girly compulsion that he couldn't bring himself to shake—when Chase spoke again. "So. Caleb's kind of hot."

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Caleb's kind of hot. He's also kind of straight."

Chase mocked surprise, which Tyler only noted as he tossed the towel into a laundry bin. "What, aren't all the noted Sons of Ipswich kind of straight?"

Maybe Aaron was right about this one, after all. Tyler just smiled, snapping his watch on his wrist and tugging his jacket over his shoulders—which he swore was totally just because he was getting cold and not at all because he felt cool like Tom Cruise in Top Gun when he did it. "Why don't you tell me what you think, Chase?"

Chase stood up from where he'd been lounging, his long legs stretched across the width of the locker aisle. "Why don't I show you what I think, Tyler?"

* * *

Tyler didn't get home until after curfew that night. After Reid, who turned to him with bleary eyes and mumbled something to ask why he was so late. "My step dad was shot."

Reid blinked and sat up, concern flooding his face. "Wait, what?"

Tyler blushed a little red on the apples of his cheeks, his voice low. "My step dad got shocked. Finger in electric socket. He tripped and—fell into the wall. While his hand was wet." Tyler realized that he was probably only getting away with this because Reid was asleep. "He hurt a little, and um. Scared mom, but everyone's alright now." Tyler paused for a second. "So you should go back to sleep."

Reid paused, and Tyler bit his lip. He was going to protest. No one was stupid enough to fall for this, Reid was going to protest. Reid yawned and rolled over, falling asleep. Tyler was safe.

* * *

Only, of course, safe was a relative term. It was in between classes and particularly risky—not to mention kind of oddly uncomfortable, since the broom closet really felt like it was closing in around them tighter with every breath. Maybe it was—was he using? Chase made his mind kind of fuzzy and to be honest, Tyler got off on the feeling. Dark, tousled hair tickled his chin as Chase teased up his neck. Tyler moaned, and squirmed away a little.

"Chase, stop." Chase bit his jaw, eyes flashing with the kind of manic amusement that so defined him. "No, seriously. I have to get to Algebra."

"You don't need Algebra, you're never going to use it."

Tyler's nose wrinkled, mostly because he didn't really like being pushed around, even if he did tolerate it from his friends. "I might need Algebra."

Chase pushed Tyler hard back against the bookshelves, which were full of bottles of solvent and industrial cleaners without pronounceable or interesting names. It was a little rougher than it needed to be, which honestly kind of turned on Tyler a little. "Are you planning on being a doctor?" Tyler shook his head no—continuing to do so for each option in the litany. "A scientist? A mathematician? A financier? An interior designer?" The last one made Tyler's eyes narrow, playful, still, though. He shoved Chase back, lightly, though Chase held on. Tyler liked letting him think he was stronger, and Chase kind of liked it, too. "Then what exactly do you want to do with your life that would need Algebra?"

The problem with these kinds of questions was that Tyler knew, intimately, that there was no grand future for him. For any of them. They were intimately tied to the town, destined to guard the Book of Damnation, to control the secret of the covenant as the world grew up and matured around them, stubborn and unyielding. "Reid kind of dreamed about going into construction. He has money from his granddad, so he was thinking about doing that after he finished school."

Chase leaned in, kissing Tyler—biting his lip. His voice was low and strikingly seductive, with an edge to it that excited Tyler (and yet totally keyed him in that Chase wasn't quite right). "I didn't ask what Reid planned to do after college. I asked about you." Tyler started to speak, but he was hushed by Chase's finger over his lips. "Don't make excuses. You could be someone, Tyler. Nothing is holding you back here—I don't care what bonds, what power you think is binding you here." The accuracy of that sentence gave Tyler chills, but Chase couldn't possibly have known anything. Could he? "You could do it. You're so much more than you think." Chase kissed Tyler, hard, tongue forcing its way into Tyler's mouth, exploring before pulling away, his teeth scraping Tyler's bottom lip hard enough to leave behind the ghost of the taste of blood. Chase pulled away, leaving Tyler leaning hard against those supply shelves. "Go to class, kiddo."

Of all the times Tyler had been called by children's names, that one probably stung the most.

* * *

Things went downhill from there. Tyler started to wake up at night, startled, his face flushing, scared and terribly aware that someone was using. It wasn't anyone from the covenant. He would have known. It didn't take Caleb pointing things out for him to understand, either. His new boyfriend was an enemy. That just figured. The days passed in an unsophisticated blur. Kate was injured, Pogue was in an 'accident' and Caleb found out (in person) exactly what Chase wanted. It wasn't good.

All of this together meant that the sex had to stop immediately. But Tyler was confused, slightly irritated, and jealous in the fashion that highlighted his immaturity. He understood that he shouldn't really want Chase to want his powers, but why hadn't he even tried to control Tyler?

Tyler was running late for the dance. Not that he was actually going to the dance with anyone important since his boyfriend was apparently a demented killer. Just his luck. He was, however, going to get the elite and exclusive job of playing babysitter to Sarah, Caleb's new girlfriend. The joy was absolutely indescribable.

Reid was downstairs waiting for him. He'd gotten impatient with Tyler's pace, but the truth was that Tyler couldn't seem to drive himself to move any faster. His stomach hurt. He was angry. He was probably a whole lot of other things, too, because it just didn't feel fair. He refused to be a baby and give in to some sort of a fit, but why did the only person who actually believed in him have to be batshit insane?

There was a pop of power, more sensation than reality and Tyler spun around on his heels, the hair on the back of his neck raising as a voice rang out, confirming his suspicions. "Well, well. Don't you clean up nicely."

"You shouldn't be here, Chase." His voice was firm and unafraid. Not because Tyler wasn't afraid (he was scared out of his mind), but because he refused to let Chase know that. The only person who believed in him was right here, in his bedroom, making him regret some of the happiest times of his life.

"I know that. You're probably not happy with me." If there were really an award given out for understating the obvious, Tyler was pretty sure this statement would have won for that year.

Tyler stepped out of the bathroom—where he'd been, for lack of a better word, primping his hair to make sure he looked decent. He pressed his back against the wall, watching Chase, who had appeared in between the two single beds that dominated the dorm room. "You tried to kill two of my friends. Am I supposed to be thrilled with you?"

Chase shook his head, sitting down on Reid's bed, which just figured. That was totally Chase. Tyler crossed his arms as Chase looked up at him. "In my defense, you were never that fond of Kate."

Which was true, but it was beside the point. "Did you really kill your parents?"

"My foster parents." Tyler walked closer, moving to sit on his own bed. It was too close, he knew, logically, that Chase was dangerous and insane, but he was also just Chase. "They had it coming." Tyler watched as Chase bit his lip, breathing in quickly. "I'm not going into detail about it with you, but they weren't good people. I don't regret what I did."

Tyler kind of understood that. A lot of the time, he wasn't really upset about his own father's death. He didn't talk about it a lot, it was something he didn't expect Caleb, with his paternal dedication, or the other two, who from Tyler's perspective at least had storybook perfect relationships with their fathers, to understand. It wasn't exactly hatred, but it wasn't exactly love.

Tyler could say that about a lot of his relationships, honestly. He shifted on the bed. He was running out of good excuses. "Did you really kiss Caleb?"

Chase rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Sort of dementedly, but it was a smile. "Do you really care? Yes, I kissed him. On the cheek. It was totally worth it, he flipped."

Tyler felt miserable. Completely miserable. He was stuck. Either his friend or his boyfriend would die tonight. Possibly both. If Caleb died, he would be miserable, but if Caleb killed Chase he'd probably never forgive him. Not that he could explain that to Caleb. Chase was a lunatic. Caleb was doing the right thing. Tyler was just doomed. Something in his stomach twisted, a last ditch desperation that he would never be able to explain to himself later. His voice was low and grumbling, as if he was just about to cry (much to his own dismay). "I will you my pow—"

Magic hit him before Chase actually did, though from what Tyler could tell it wasn't on purpose. His eyes were glossed over black and his hand gripped over Tyler's mouth. He had him pinned on the bed, anger having gotten the best of Chase despite himself. "Don't you ever, ever say that to anyone, Tyler. You are worth more than that, don't throw your life away. I love you, and I don't love anyone."

Chase lifted his hand away, moving off of Tyler, who was still in kind of a daze. "You love—"

"Yes. Shut up." Tyler sat up, rearranging himself. Chase sat for a few minutes, scratching the base of the back of his neck. Nervous, almost. "I have to go get ready."

Tyler rubbed his face, nodding. "I have to get downstairs before Reid figures something's wrong." He took a deep breath in, his voice low and very soft. "If you kill Caleb, I'll never forgive you."

Chase winced, looking down at his hands, which had been freshly tucked into his lap. "I know." Chase stood and leaned over Tyler, kissing him. It was more gentle than Tyler had ever felt before. It felt like crying, but in the form of a kiss. "I love you, Tyler. Take care of yourself."

In a blink, Chase was gone.

* * *

Caleb had never thought that he'd killed Chase. It was something that he had explained meticulously to each of them, the fearless leader briefing his soldiers thoroughly. It left Pogue and Reid indescribably angry, but for Tyler it was a shot of hope, a fleeting ghost of a chance to get rid of the tumultuous feeling that dominated the pit of his stomach lately. This was why he should have known better. This was why he should never have gotten involved with someone he knew was dangerous.

He didn't feel better until about a week later, when a postcard arrived in his school mail. It showed a farmhouse in a field of snow, and had the words 'thinking of you' imprinted on the landscape in white. The postmark said Boston and there was no return address, but it was still the greatest thing Tyler had seen in a long time.

_Dear Tyler,  
I almost pulled a Voldemort and went to Albania to recover. I wonder what a postcard from Albania would look like—it sounds like a great place for exile, after all. I'll send you my address when things are more settled. I hope you're doing well._

Much love,  
Chase


	2. Collector's Edition

Most private schools in the Northeast seem to start school about a year later than public school where I went, so, while it may seem that I've taken some liberties with age and placement, it's with good reason. Once again, I have absolutely no rights over these characters, places, or ideas. But I wrote this anyway. 

Sometimes a little change is all it takes to make a big change. Tyler/Chase, Caleb

**Collector's Edition**

It wasn't quite midway through his senior year—the year after he had turned eighteen, when Caleb Danvers figured out what had been bothering him. Bothering was, of course, the totally wrong word because it didn't bother him, really. It was just something he had noticed.

His friend, not his best friend, but his really good friend—really his youngest friend, Tyler Simms—had changed. He wasn't even sure what had changed until he started to watch him. Everything was different. Tyler walked differently. Tyler talked differently. Tyler treated them differently. No longer was he so afraid of losing them, which had been, like, a quintessential Tyler trait. The lack of insecurity was kind of—well. Attractive. By attractive, he meant different.

The more Caleb watched, in fact, the more he realized that a whole lot of things had changed about Tyler. For one, he'd gotten a haircut, trading his mono-toned, slightly over-elevated hair for a more sleek and stylishly trimmed asymmetrical cut, highlighted with lighter golden tones. Sarah said that it brought out Tyler's eyes. Caleb wasn't sure what it did, he just knew that it changed how his friend's face even looked. He got more attention now. They'd always gotten attention as a group, and okay Caleb had gotten a lot of attention because of his odd-but-sweet reputation, but now little Tyler turned heads, making the girls in the Junior class go practically insane whenever he talked to them.

If he was also driving Caleb a little nuts, it was only because Caleb was curious about what happened to cause this change. Really.

Tyler was taking different classes then them. Before, he'd really emulated Reid, not in the core classes (which were different since Tyler was in a different year), but in his choice of electives. They normally all had at least one class together, but not this year. This year they shared nothing, and it had left them all feeling a little off-balance. All of them except Tyler, of course. Caleb had tried talking to Tyler about it once, as a litmus test for how the younger man was going to act now.

"So, you're in a lot of different classes this year."

"Yeah." It was after a swim practice, at Nicky's. Reid was trying, yet again, to hustle Aaron at pool. Which would end in a fight. But Caleb wasn't focused on that at the moment. Pogue, thankfully, was watching over him.

Tyler wasn't elaborating. "Well. Any particular reason why?"

Tyler laughed a little, taking a sip of the coke he held before putting it down on the table. "I'm taking classes more suited to get me into the college I want to get into."

To say Caleb was surprised was an understatement. "I didn't know that you'd even decided where you wanted to go."

"NYU film school." It was Caleb's turn to take a drink—not because the thought was distasteful, but because it was just plain surprising. And yet, kind of obvious, too. Tyler had taken a trip to New York City this past summer, alone. Tyler was kind of closed-mouthed about it, and Reid had said it was a present, something given to Tyler by his parents to celebrate his 18th birthday. A college visit would have made way more sense. "That's why I'm taking the Audio/Visual Tech class, the creative writing, and the drama."

"Huh." Tyler finished his drink and stood up, starting to head towards Reid and Pogue. He stopped, though, looking back at Caleb. "Don't worry. You're not behind. No one else knows yet."

Things were definitely different.

* * *

"Do you think that Tyler's got a girlfriend?" Caleb was sitting on Sarah's bed, watching some awful chick flick on the television as she pretended to watch and actually did her homework instead. As soon as he asked that, he saw her back start to shake—just a little. Her face was hidden by her Calculus book. "What? Am I missing something?" 

"Baby, I really don't think Tyler would even be interested in having a girlfriend."

That made no sense. Caleb sat up straighter. "What do you mean? Like, because of school?"

Sarah shook her head, closing her book and sitting up to look at Caleb. "I mean because of Tyler, sweetheart." Caleb still didn't get it, but he didn't have time to question it. Sarah leaned forward and kissed him. School and homework had been so distracting lately--he gave into her kiss, and they didn't speak any more about it.

* * *

Caleb could only assume that Tyler still didn't have the balls to lie to him. It wasn't exactly a safe assumption. Tyler had changed significantly. His hair, his confidence, everything had shifted to make Tyler seem like way more of a grown up now. He hadn't done this when he was Tyler's age. Had he? No. It was one day before Tyler ascended and he seemed oddly relaxed, his legs crossed in front of him as he laughed at something Pogue said. They were at Caleb's, in attendance for a non-official birthday party that had landed here, utterly on accident, when Reid had announced that he was far, far too drunk to make it into the dorms quietly—and had clearly been right. Reid had pretty much passed out on impact with the living room couch, and it had been Tyler's idea to move to another area—one that his mom called the 'drawing room', whatever that meant—though Caleb wasn't sure if that was kindness or simply a desire to escape Reid's snoring. 

Pogue finished off his drink, yawning at the end of it and excused himself. This was the perfect opportunity to try again. Caleb shifted to sit next to Tyler, leaning against the couch, stretching his legs out. They were longer than Tyler's, still, and rested against the base of the couch opposite. "So are you nervous?"

Tyler laughed, shaking his head. "Is it time for the speech now?"

Caleb blinked and shook his head. Tyler had a real way of throwing him off these days and he wasn't sure that he liked it. "What do you mean by that?"

"Reid and Pogue told me that you give a speech about responsibility and power and growing up whenever someone's ascending. Reid got kind of ticked because he was only, like, a month after you. He thought it was pretentious. Pogue was kind of touched, but that's Pogue."

Caleb shifted, biting the inside of his cheek. He had given them both speeches, but it was only because Reid was irresponsible on the best of days, practically addicted to his powers from their onset. Pogue was his best friend, but he had a temper and practically no direction. If he'd given them speeches, it was only because he wanted to help. He hadn't realized it had sounded overbearing, or whatever it was that Reid had reacted to. Tyler took a final swig off his beer, setting it down on the floor and regarding Caleb again. He turned, bending his legs and leaning against the coffee table instead, so that he could see Caleb's face. He bit his lips, shaking his head. "Oh, crap. You weren't going to give me a speech, were you." Caleb shook his head, vaguely aware that he was probably blushing a little, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Caleb. I just assumed."

"You don't need a speech. You're responsible, and you've got direction." Though Caleb didn't know where he'd gotten it, and it drove him nuts. "Though Reid's still kind of a bad influence."

Tyler smiled, and maybe it was the alcohol in his system or maybe it was an overpowering feeling of success that yes, this was it, maybe he would get to the bottom of things, but Caleb's stomach warmed and he smiled, too. "Thank you, Caleb." On reflection, it probably was one of the nicest things Caleb had ever said to Tyler, but he didn't particularly want to dwell on that. "So what did you want to talk about, then?"

Caleb could say a lot about Tyler, but he could never claim that the kid wasn't smart. He nodded, a little, accepting that the conversation was going to be disturbingly in Tyler's control. "You've changed. A lot."

Tyler reached up to get another beer, taking a sip before he could even speak. He looked nervous now, which was surprising to Caleb. It brought out more of the old Tyler, the one he'd grown up with—but he didn't like the idea of scaring him enough for that. "Are you trying to ask why?"

Caleb just nodded, reaching for another beer. Tyler was fumbling a little now, and Caleb reached down, putting a hand on his foot. "Tyler, whatever you're scared about, don't be."

"I have a boyfriend." Tyler threw the words out like a punch, and it left Caleb reeling for a moment. Not so much that Tyler was gay, because this was Massachusetts and being an asshole about those things was territory for jerks like Aaron. Tyler was still nervous. There was more to this. Caleb just let him keep talking. "And it's someone that we're not too fond of, as a group."

Caleb picked up his own beer, taking a drink. "Aaron?" Reid would kill Tyler if he was dating Aaron. Tyler shook his head. "Aaron's friend what's-his-face?" Tyler stopped for a second—probably trying to think of that kids name. He shook his head. All of a sudden, a pit formed in Caleb's stomach. It couldn't be. Tyler was too smart for that. "Not him. No, Tyler, tell me it's not."

Tyler looked down, turning a little red. "It's Chase."

"Jesus Christ, Tyler. Of all the stupid—" Caleb bit off his words, trying to come to terms with what Tyler was saying. He couldn't. It made no sense. "He's a murderer."

Tyler sat up, then stood up, walking away from Caleb, crossing his arms. "Look, I know he was really, really crazy when we met him. He's a lot better now."

Caleb stood up, talking in the sort of whisper-yell that he could only barely manage. "How does one recover from being a murderer, Tyler?"

Tyler's eyes flashed at him, angry, and Caleb expected them to turn an inky black, but they didn't. They stayed normal. It was only his temper that was flaring. "I don't know, Caleb. How would a mentally, physically, and possibly--I mean I'm not sure, but--otherwise abused kid recover from that experience to go on and live a relatively normal life? Even though he was treated like crap his entire life, even though he didn't trust people—didn't freaking know how. I imagine it's awfully hard for a kid like that, especially when he doesn't even know anything about his freaking heritage, to get a break."

It was a lot to take in. Caleb sat down on the couch. Tyler's arms were crossed—he was still visibly angry, but not like he had been before. Not quite. Caleb wasn't quite the same, either. "He was abused? His step-parents?"

"I think so. Abused and acting on the advice of his psychotic, magic-addicted father."

Caleb rubbed his face. He wasn't the kind of person who really liked having regrets, particularly when it came to times when he wasn't really wrong. He took a deep breath, looked up at Tyler. "He's in New York now?"

Tyler sat on the opposite couch, a small, tense sort of smile on his face. "Yeah."

"He's been good for you." Even after he said that, something acidic lingered in his stomach. There was a beat--a breath, a moment's time when they both sat silent. "He could still kill you."

Tyler met Caleb's eyes, something infinitely harder in them than Caleb would have expected from Tyler. Their little Tyler. "Or I could kill him."

* * *

Tyler ascended the next day, alone, apparently in the woods where Putnam barn had previously stood. There were no witnesses to the event, which Tyler would later refer to as his 'Highlander' moment. Not that that was intentional--Reid had stalked the town semi-desperately, concerned for his friend, but nursing the kind of debilitating hangover that Caleb thought Tyler had secretly hoped to cause the night before. 

Tyler had finally caught up with them at Nicky's that night. He looked pale and refused to drink, which made sense to them. The rush of power left everyone a little queesy.

Caleb had gotten him alone for one minute. Only one minute. The only question he could ask was why--it was the only question he had left. Tyler shook his head, his voice low and rough. He sounded like he'd been screaming today. "He pays attention to me."

At that point, Sarah demanded Caleb's attention, but all he could think was that it actually made sense.

* * *

_Dear Chase,  
Please don't be angry with Tyler. He didn't give me your address, he didn't even want to tell me where you were, I just guessed. There are, like, a million Chase Collins in the city, but only one Chase Simms, and I guessed it was you. I hope I'm right._

_I really think I just wanted to say I'm sorry, because I am. I didn't know about things and now that I know about things maybe we could make things less important than other things and fight things together. I don't know if that even makes sense, but—I don't know.  
I'm sorry.  
Caleb _

* * *

It took something like fifteen revisions, five envelopes, and three stamps before Caleb finally mailed the letter. He never received a real response, but he did get a postcard in the mail a few weeks later. There was no return address, but the postmark was from New York. The card itself was endlessly cool—a retro comic book cover, some collector's edition cover featuring the Fantastic Four battling a man cloaked in green with a mask for a face. 

_Dear Mr. Fantastic,  
Love means never having to say you're sorry. For the record, premature aging has its benefits. Guess who didn't get carded at Marquee last night!  
Yours,  
Dr. Doom_

_P.S. Tell the Torch that his birthday present's in the mail._


	3. Exclusive Footage

I owe some of you some responses to reviews and even more of you some responses to your amazing stories. Unfortunately I've always been such a fan of writing for myself that I forget the many merits of being interactive with my audience. To all of you who have reviewed: You are lovely people and I appreciate every second of your time both reading this story and writing your reviews. From the weird reviews to the questioning reviews, and those of you so full of praise--I am thankful beyond my greatest words. To the one of you who asked me: No, Tyler and Chase didn't get married, Chase was merely going by a pseudonym. That's not to say that those crazy kids aren't silly enough to get married--it just wouldn't be particularly legal in the states. 

These characters aren't mine, but I still mess around with them. **THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS CHARACTER DEATH** It also contains slash. Some things are easier to reckon with than others. Tyler/Chase, Tyler/Caleb.

**Exclusive Footage**

It was graduation day and Tyler was more nervous than anyone who was actually graduating. He couldn't really have expressed why, other than to say that it was the realization that everything about his life was going to change. His hands were like ice, despite the fact that it was an unseasonably warm early summer. It felt, off hand, like something was eating through his stomach--only getting worse as time passed and names were called. One by one by one. They were all leaving him now.

Still, it wasn't until later that it really hit him, that striking feeling of loneliness. It wasn't until he was alone in his SUV that he could really let himself feel it. He remembered the last time this had happened, a particularly miserable year at the end of elementary school, before Spenser, when Aaron--who was, unfortunately, Tyler's age--had put his after-school karate lessons to painfully good use. It was before Tyler had powers, before his father had died, before anything of landmark notability had happened in his life. It wouldn't be the same now, in both good ways and bad. Caleb would be too far away to decide to walk Tyler home from school. Reid would be too far away to slash bike tires for revenge. Tyler wouldn't even have let them now anyway.

He had spent almost an hour parked next to the cliff when his cell phone buzzed. He expected Chase, or possibly Pogue (who seemed to have an uncanny perception of things like depression). It was Reid. Tyler didn't particularly feel like being at Nicky's, but he did it anyway. It was easier, and after a few illegally obtained beers were in him it became downright blurry. Sarah kissed his cheek and Caleb hugged him. Pogue bought his drinks and Reid ruffled his hair, whispering in his ear that he shouldn't worry, he was stuck with them for another three months at least.

Three whole months.

* * *

**ipswich ty: **i want to come see you this summer.  
**voldechase:** it's not a good time. i'm busy at work.  
**ipswich ty:** you live off your parent's estate.  
**voldechase:** it's just a bad time, tyler, i'm sorry.  
**ipswich ty:** fine.

* * *

Two weeks had passed, and Reid was off in Europe. It was a gift from his parents, though no one had expected him to set up shop there, practically settling at the southern coast of France for the summer. It wasn't that Tyler was angry about this--because what kid would pass up that chance--as much as he was kind of hurt. Not that he would think about that. He would get over it. He always did. 

He had plans, anyway.

The train ride to New York was tedious at best. Tyler brought his iPod and tried to whittle away the hours that way, but he was distracted. That acidic feeling was back in the pit of his stomach. Chase lived in Dumbo, but he spent most of his time on the Upper and Lower East Side, by the park. He had been out of touch for two weeks.

It was early evening when Caleb arrived at the apartment, the commute having delivered him long after the coroners and the police had come and gone. Caleb had never really been to New York and Tyler had had to give him step-by-step instructions on where to go and how to get to Chase's place. Even though Tyler kind of got the impression that Caleb had just wanted to keep him talking.

Tyler had memories of this apartment, of this hall. He'd spent a good chunk of his summer here, enjoying himself and pretending that the myriad of problems that seemed inherent in his relationship with Chase simply didn't exist. This was before Caleb had known. Somehow, Caleb knowing made things easier.

Tyler reached out to touch the doorknob, and with a touch of magic the door unlocked itself. He stepped in, wary suddenly though he couldn't quite say why. Something was creeping against his senses, bothering him. He shut the door and walked further into the room. It was silent, beyond the silence of a home that is actually empty. This was a forced, unnatural silence, the silence of something trying to be quiet that would not naturally be that meek. By instinct alone, Tyler's eyes turned black and his steps became careful and quiet as he eased his way inside. "Chase? It's just Tyler."

There was a rush of wind and the door slammed shut as footsteps approached from Tyler's right. The bedroom. He turned, but before he could really focus he was pushed back, turned further by magic. A hand was on his hip, lips against him--he finally relaxed. It was only Chase. He could taste whiskey in Chase's mouth and his kiss was a little harsher than normal. He should have called from the train.

Chase pulled back, staying too close for Tyler to really look at him. His voice was low and had a raspy quality to it, as if it had been worn so slightly thin. "I told you not to come here."

Tyler kissed along Chase's jaw line. It felt softer somehow, then he remembered it being, but he pushed the thought aside because this was Chase and Chase always felt comfortable, like sleeping in your bed at home after months away. "You knew I would anyway."

Chase kissed him again, hard, his voice a whisper in Tyler's mouth. "Yeah. You shouldn't have." He moved his hand up over Tyler's mouth--which was alarming on a level, but Tyler went with it for the moment. Chase pulled away, and suddenly Tyler understood.

Chase was using--hard, by the looks of it. He looked older, in his late forties or early fifties, which would be inconvenient at best. Tyler breathed out and Chase moved away, dropping his hand. He was an attractive man, just older, but they wouldn't be able to go out together anymore--not in the same way at least. It would look too odd, it would stand out too much. "I'm done, Tyler. I'm so far gone."

But it didn't mean that they couldn't make it work somehow. Tyler leaned against the frame of the door to the bedroom, his voice low. "You're not done. You just need to stop using, Chase." He reached out to Chase, drawing him in with a hand against his side, his voice low. "You have to stop using before you hurt yourself." Tyler reached up, combing his fingers through graying hair. "You look hot for an old guy." Chase's nose wrinkled as he laughed, finally laughed for Tyler.

Tyler smiled. Everything was going to be just fine, he thought. Everything would work out. Chase leaned in and kissed his neck. "You are such a good man, Tyler. How did you become such a good man?" It was the same sort of thing Chase always said to him. It felt off to Tyler that despite Chase's inherently chaotic nature that it was Tyler's moral center that really attracted him, but that was the nature of attraction. It never made sense. Chase kissed him lightly on the lips, his voice still soft. "I love you, Tyler." Tyler could only murmur his assent. Yes, yes, yes, he loved Chase, too, despite himself sometimes. His eyes closed, only to reopen quickly when Chase pushed him back against the door frame, harshly, his hand over Tyler's mouth so he couldn't speak. A sinking feeling hit Tyler, again, and he struggled. Chase's voice was soft against his ear, barely a whisper, but later that day, Tyler would think it was the worst thing he had ever heard in his life. "I will my power to you."

Tyler was crying, almost pathetically as the lightening rush of power first hit his chest. He leaned against the door frame, his knees buckling under his continually weakening strength and the combined weight of himself and Chase. All he could think as he curled himself up was that it wasn't right, it just wasn't right.

This wasn't how things were supposed to end.

* * *

It was early evening when Caleb arrived at the apartment, the commute having delivered him long after the coroners and the police had come and gone. Caleb had never really been to New York and Tyler had had to give him step-by-step instructions on where to go and how to get to Chase's place. Even though Tyler kind of got the impression that Caleb had just wanted to keep him talking. 

Tyler couldn't say he minded much. He was glad, too, that it was Caleb--not only because Caleb was the only one who knew about Chase, but because Caleb was dependable in the same way that Tyler tried to be dependable, and he liked that a lot. Especially since it didn't really seem like he could count on anyone else to be anything but disappointing.

Caleb hugged Tyler when he opened the door and if Tyler held on a little bit harder and longer than he should have, it was only because Caleb felt good. Steady. In a way, Tyler really envied Sarah because this is what she had--a boyfriend who was every bit as sane as she was herself. Possibly more, knowing Sarah.

Not that Tyler would voice that out loud.

It was late when they finished picking through Chase's things. He didn't have much, in fact Tyler was petty sure that Chase had left more behind when he'd fled Ipswich. Most of what he had in the apartment would be donated to the Salvation Army in the morning, but Tyler held on to this stupid thick black wool v-neck cable-knit sweater that Chase had worn constantly. His favorite sweater, the only thing in the whole house that still smelled like Chase. Tyler sat on the couch, this ugly beaten brown leather thing that Chase had brought on sale at a consignment shop in the city, and held the sweater up to his nose, breathing in. It felt stupid and sad and comforting all at once and he didn't know what to do with these emotions, all conflicting inside of him. He had never felt so like a girl in his entire life.

Caleb sat down next to him, his voice in the same soft and soothing tone he'd had all evening. "Are you okay?"

Tyler nodded, swallowing hard. "It smells like him." Caleb didn't react, he just reached out to take the sweater--just for a second, sniffing it with a laugh before he handed it back to Tyler. It was surprising enough to make Tyler smile. "What?"

"He wore Old Spice."

Tyler sniffed again and laughed, nodding. "He was such a dork." Tyler thought about that, subconsciously holding the sweater tighter and closer to his face as if it would somehow undergo a drastic metamorphosis and become real, solid, human again. As if he could bring him back with wishes and magic. The very same thing that had taken him away to begin with.

Tyler's eyes were watering. He ducked his head down because he wouldn't cry. He refused to cry because Chase didn't want to be here anymore and if he didn't want to be with Tyler anymore than fuck him. Fuck him for taking the easy way out when he had never let Tyler have the same thing and Tyler didn't even want that anymore but it still wasn't fair and he felt denied.

Tyler's shoulders were shaking roughly and he knew that and still curled in, curling around the sweater. It hurt, this affair. He wasn't sure that he ever wanted to love someone again if this is how it would hurt afterwards. He felt an arm on his shoulder, Caleb comforting him. Caleb's voice still that slow, low soothing leader voice. "Shh, Tyler, let it out. Don't fight this."

Tyler would be damned if he was going to go back into depression quietly. He pushed away, angry--and to be honest, he wasn't entirely sure how or why the next event happened. At some moment when pushing and anger became less palatable, he must have just given in to instinct. He grabbed Caleb by the collar and kissed him. Because Caleb was kind of hot. Caleb was also kind of straight.

But Caleb didn't push him away. Caleb's hands paused against Tyler's shoulders before pulling him back, closer to Caleb. Tyler opened his mouth and moaned, and Caleb clutched at loose back of Tyler's shirt as Chase's sweater fell off Tyler's lap, onto the floor unheeded. And maybe it was the brush of the soft-scratchy wool that brought Tyler back to himself, or maybe it was something less morally repugnant, but he couldn't do this. He couldn't be the man who made out with his taken sort-of best friend in his dead boyfriend's apartment.

He pushed Caleb away, and Caleb, to his credit didn't protest. It was too late to start the journey home, so they ate the leftover Chinese food out of Chase's fridge and tried very hard to not talk about anything incendiary. Caleb fell asleep on the couch and Tyler took the bed, though if he had been honest he didn't sleep much at all.

All he could think about was whether Chase had seen that and if he would totally hate him if he had. Chase had kissed Caleb, too, but Chase had been planning to kill him at the time and Tyler didn't really know where that fell on the infidelity scale. He was also pretty sure that Sarah wouldn't care much about dead boyfriends or maybe she would care and she'd hate Tyler even more if she knew that not only had he shoved his tongue down Caleb's throat, he'd also dated their arch-enemy. He was so screwed.

Maybe being alone next year and potentially for the rest of eternity wasn't such a bad idea after all.

* * *

Tyler carried Chase's laptop home, along with his sweater and some of his cds. Buried in the mix he found a disc labeled 'Tyler', which honestly scared him a little until he popped it into his computer. There was a video file and mp3s. He clicked on the video first. A fuzzy but acceptable image of Chase as he had looked when he had died--when he had killed himself--wavered into view, his hand outstretched, adjusting the angle of the video. 

The voice was the sound of his memories, and Tyler couldn't help himself and he didn't care that much, girly as it may have been. He cried.

"_Hi, Tyler. If you're watching this I guess I've followed through with the evil plan. I'm sorry for that._" Chase on camera took a deep breath. "_Please don't think it has anything to do with not loving you. I'm addicted. It's really that simple. I'm addicted and I don't know how to stop. And you can't help me, baby. I'm so sorry for what I'm going to do to you._" Chase on screen took a shaky breath. He was wearing the same sweater Tyler had in his hands. "_But I wanted to say something to you. I've watched you blossom into this incredible man. I've never deserved you, Tyler, and what I want you to do is to follow your dream. Do whatever you want with your fucking life and never regret this because you've brought me nothing but happiness._" Chase wiped his eye on screen. He was crying? "_I'm so sorry I couldn't be a better man for you. I want you to find someone who will be, and be happy. I don't care if it takes ten seconds or ten years. I need to know you'll be happy._" There was a pause, and Chase looked uncomfortable, as if it had just occurred to him that he was talking to a machine. "_Live your life and never forget me, Ty. I'll always love you._"

The video stopped and the player rolled over to a new song, something with a repetitive drum beat, but catchy guitar tones. Bittersweet, like he felt. Like some part of him was dying or had died--it had died--and he would never ever recover from the experience. Then, for all his tears--all his physical mourning, Tyler was somehow filled with the realization that this would pass. Things would get better, and while this would always live with him, it wouldn't haunt him.

If only things with Caleb were that simple. Who was he kidding? They would be that simple. The rest of the months would fly by and they would be miles apart. They'd see each other but none of them would ever really come back to the place they were now. As Thomas Wolfe wrote, you can never come home again.

All Tyler could think was that in this case, that might have been a good thing.


	4. Return to Sender

**Return to Sender**

Caleb Danvers was not that fond of Harvard. It had nothing to do with the classes, which were interesting and all the lectures had odd names like 'A Brief Reminder of the French Romantics' and 'An Examination of Colonialism and the Concept of War (Post Revolutionary)'. It didn't have any relation to his roommates or his room, which was a slightly technologically decrepit quad with no internet access and no television outside of the common rooms. That was part of the common Harvard experience, and in fact he kind of liked the quiet and his roommates seemed interesting if not necessarily cool. They were actually nice guys, though he didn't trust them--especially his roommate Colin, who had an Irish accent that had made Sarah swoon when she'd heard it.

It wasn't the arcane traditions that found him and his classmates hovered over a statue in the early hours of the morning, dodging security guards and resident assistants. It wasn't even the campus itself, which was full of old brick buildings that should have reminded him of Spencer, but that looked too red and too blocky. Truth was that Caleb didn't know what it was, the college just didn't seem to fit him correctly. It had been his goal to get into a good school, but he hadn't made up his mind on what good school until Sarah had come into his life. He was pretty sure that he'd barely made it in, his college essay had faltered in the middle, and he didn't have enough community service--but he'd made it, and he'd been ecstatic until now.

Now all he wanted to do was go home. He missed his mom. He missed his friends. He missed his school. He couldn't go back, and he didn't know where he could go, forward, so all he could do is hold on. Treading water wasn't easy at Harvard. Everyone wanted him to excel, to start something amazing, or think something amazing, or just study something amazing, and while Caleb was smart and an amazingly well-rounded man, he didn't feel exceptional at anything.

He could look at all the people around him and find something that made them stand out, but all he could find in himself was a mishmash of their qualities--Pogue's friendship, Reid's wit, Sarah's brazenness, Tyler's--whatever you would call that quality that made him Tyler--but he didn't have any single defining characteristic. He felt like nothing more than the sum of his parts and like he wasn't sure that the parts were so remarkable.

Caleb did the only thing he knew to do when he was in trouble. He called Pogue. Pogue had found himself at Wesleyan University after spending half his weekends in the spring of their final year on trips to visit campuses. He'd pulled Caleb along to a lot of them, but Caleb had been so dogged on settling in Cambridge that he hadn't really concentrated. Now, Caleb wished he'd paid more attention.

Pogue's voice was distracted and amused, light-hearted, and Caleb wished desperately that he had come here because he needed his best friend. "Yo, this is Pogue."

"Hey, Pogue."

"Caleb, my man! How is it going?" Caleb could hear the smile on Pogue's voice, and while on the surface he felt happy for his friend, it also made him feel terribly far away from him. It was odd how that worked, how emotion itself could make you feel closer or further away even though the physical distance hadn't changed in the least.

His conversation with Pogue was short--he could hear people in the background, waiting for his friend to go out, to party, to enliven them with that calm, logical yet oddly rebellious presence that was purely Pogue.

The last thing Caleb wanted was to waste anyone's time with his silly little issues.

* * *

"What exactly is your problem, anyway?" Sarah's voice was harsh, particularly for the early hour. They'd made a habit of meeting for lunch in the mornings--meeting for all their meals, honestly. It wasn't much different than walking between classes or running errands together in Ipswich, but it felt kind of urban and cool. The meals were typically the one part of the day that Caleb was fond of, even though Sarah's tone was becoming more and more common.

"Nothing's wrong." She almost glared at him, giving him a strongly disapproving look, but didn't say anything, choosing instead to wrap her hands around her cup of coffee and take a sip. It was black, no cream and no sugar, which was a massive difference from the Starbucks-loving, cappuccino-drinking Boston Public girl she'd been only months ago. Caleb wondered where she'd picked that up. Caleb picked at his cereal, swirling his spoon through the brightly-colored pieces. "I just don't know if I'm happy."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, looking terribly shocked, as if it had never even occurred to her that anyone could be unhappy here. "Caleb, this is Harvard."

Caleb gave her a sharp look despite his own efforts to stay calm. "I'm perfectly aware of where I am, thank you." He set the spoon down in his bowl and pushed his whole tray away, petulant.

Sarah rolled her eyes, but turned back to him. Her voice was more soothing this time. "I just mean that people would kill to be here--it's one of the most elite colleges in the states. You know what you went through to get here. I'm just surprised that the pride of getting in hasn't carried you through your little bought of homesickness or whatever."

Caleb took a deep breath and looked away. He could feel his face flushing a little red, and truthfully he didn't like what she had said. It was awfully easy for someone who had essentially moved back home to say that the homesickness was superfluous. Caleb was of course ignoring the fact that Sarah had moved away from home in the first place to ensure that she could go here. Mostly because he was mad and he didn't care. But she did kind of have a point that he should be proud of himself. He picked up his orange juice and took a sip, turning back. Sarah smiled and reached a hand over to rest on his. She was just about to say something when a shadow fell over their table.

"Mind if I take a seat?" It was Colin, of course, his Irish lilt in full swing (Caleb swore the man could turn it up and down in intensity, based on his needs). Still, Caleb liked his roommate and he scooted over to make room for him. It was only as he sat that Caleb noticed the contents of Colin's tray. A croissant, an apple, and a cup of black coffee with no cream or sugar on his tray to augment it. It was the exact same thing Sarah had eaten--a fact that Colin noticed almost immediately. "I see you took my suggestion on the continental breakfast, love. Good for you."

Caleb couldn't help the smirk that hit his face. Even as he stopped himself from reacting, just raising an eyebrow at Sarah. She at least had the decency to blush.

This was going to be a fantastic day.

* * *

He called Reid that night. Not really because he particularly wanted to talk to Reid, but because he couldn't talk to Sarah or Pogue and he didn't think that he wanted to talk to Tyler who was probably busy anyway, and really, Reid could be kind of good for venting at from time to time. Reid had gone to UCONN. It was his first choice because some girl in Europe had told him that it was the biggest party school on the upper east coast, and he liked that. Reid answered after one ring and sounded like he'd been sleeping though he swore he hadn't. Caleb explained the whole situation, down to how they'd been fighting, all the way through the stupid croissant and how Sarah and Colin had talked about the merits of that breakfast for the whole rest of the day, which made Caleb feel giddy with happiness everytime he'd needed to leave for class.

"Dude, fuck her man. That's like. Puff pastry infidelity, Caleb. Like. Padultery. Pastry and adultery altogether, man. It's so wrong." Caleb opened his mouth though to be honest, he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. It didn't matter much, because Reid kept talking anyway. "Like, and it's so symbolic man. I mean, anything that buttery is just evil, and it's French and the French are like known for being skanky."

Caleb was pretty sure that Reid was just talking shit now, but the fuzziness in his voice suddenly sounded painfully familiar. "Reid, are you fucking high?" Reid giggled, though he didn't give a true response one way or the other. Caleb shook his head--not that Reid could see that. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Reid, are you being careful?"

Reid confirmed that he was and Caleb let him go wit a warning to go easy on the weed. For a moment, Caleb thought about calling Tyler. In the end, he just turned his phone off and went to sleep.

* * *

Caleb Danvers kind of knew something was wrong. It wasn't an important sort of uneasy feeling, he didn't have a sense of death or otherwise of impending doom. It was just an inkling, a nagging sensation that things weren't quite as he might have preferred them. It had hit him right before lunch, and it clung to him, persistently making his stomach ache. He picked up his mail at the campus post office and headed back to his quad, begging off on his final lecture for the day. This was Harvard, and he could get away with that once, right? He had to be smart enough to get away with that at least once.

Caleb trudged into the common room of the quad, collapsing on their ancient couch with an undignified huff. The room was quiet, except for little pattering and giggling noises coming from Colin's room. He wasn't entirely certain that he wanted to investigate. The idea, in fact, of that much energy at this point in the day made Caleb's stomach twitch. He let his head drop back on the arm, breathing in. Something started to tickle his senses. That giggling sounded very, very familiar. Painfully familiar, in fact. He got to his feet, heading over to knock on Colin's door when the door popped open and a horribly familiar blond head came bopping out, clad in nothing except knee socks and Colin's four-leaf clover boxers.

Caleb lost his breath, his hand dropping to his side. Sarah, for her part, did an ugly double-take that resulted in her covering her chest and gasping, blushing kind of frantically. "Caleb!" It took her a few moments, as Caleb backed away, crossing his arms and fighting back nausea. "Caleb--I don't even know what to say, I'm so sorry."

Caleb just shook his head, reaching for his mail. He wasn't even so horribly angry, just kind of disappointed and thoroughly disgusted. "It's alright, I didn't think it was working out, either." Colin peered his head out and then, quickly, disappeared back inside his room. Caleb couldn't even bring himself to hate them. Caleb's eyes flashed black and a few seconds later, Sarah only remembered that they'd been dating. It took too much magic for Caleb's taste and he felt very, very old as a result. He bit his lip to try and stop, but he couldn't. His words had left his mouth before he ever even realized what he'd wanted to say. "For the record, I already cheated on you."

It wasn't really true, because kissing was nowhere near the scale of what he could imagine Sarah had done, but the words were vicious anyway, and tasted bitter out of his mouth. He could hear Sarah starting to cry as he left the common room and locked himself into his bedroom. He couldn't quite bring himself to care.

* * *

It was an hour later, and Caleb had firmly decided that he hated Harvard. He hated the stupid red brick buildings. He hated his classes, packed full of snobbish, self-important brats. He hated how the campus made him feel, lost and alone, bitter and buried in some sort of colossal mistake that made him feel stupid, utterly stupid. He'd called his mom, who hadn't been able to say much about Sarah but who had told Caleb to come home and whatever the consequences were, they would deal with them.

Running had never been so attractive. He packed his things into his duffel bag, just enough for a visit--they would handle anything longer once he was there. There was a ticket waiting for him at the train station. He secured a kind of awkward ride from Colin--who seemed sheepish around him at best. If Caleb were just a slightly more vindictive person, he would have used it to his advantage.

But he wasn't. He had always been a good guy.

He made short calls to Pogue and Reid, neither of which were picking up their phones. He was just about to give in and call Tyler when he noticed a regular letter stuck in with the junk mail that he normally received at his school box. It was from Ipswich, though there was no return address. He knew who it was from, though. His name was penciled in short, neat block letters, the stamp almost meticulously placed--as if Tyler had debated sending it or not and had finally decided with the visceral act of placing the stamp.

Inside was a letter, written by hand.

_Dear Caleb,  
I heard from the guys that things have been a little hard on you lately. I hope you're alright. It's been a little hectic around here, and I wanted to apologize if I've missed your call. Coach is gearing us up for the swim season this year and he's been running me a little ragged. I can't blame him too much, I feel like my concentration's shot without you three around._

_That said, it's been kind of a great year. I feel like everything I've learned this past year has only made me a stronger person, and I'm enjoying the opportunity to really show my strengths. It sounds stupid to say it to you, but sometimes I feel like I've been lost in the shadow of you three for most of my life and I'm just now, in the face of all this pain, finding myself._

_For anything I may have done that hurt you, Caleb--I'm really sorry. And I hope you're not angry with me over it._

_Talk to you soon,  
Tyler_

Caleb folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope, holding it in his hand, feeling the weight of it. He would be home soon.

* * *

Caleb had dropped his things off in his room. His mom had greeted him with a hug which would have felt childish if he hadn't been so desperately in need of comfort. He felt an odd sense of relief when he got in his car. His car, his poor car, which couldn't come to Harvard with him because Freshman weren't allowed vehicles. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until he sat behind the wheel.

As he drove a sense of calm washed over him. This, for all its issues and all its merits, was home. He pulled into the parking lot at Nicky's, struck with an odd feeling because it looked like he remembered it looking, but it wasn't exactly the same. There was a new coat of varnish on the bar, which made it all look different, and the people there were the same, but some were missing and some were older. He heard a whisper go through the crowd when he entered. That hadn't been unexpected and truthfully, it wasn't something he was unaccustomed to hearing. He spotted Tyler, slouched over the pool table with Aaron. He stiffened, the old hero in him standing to attention before he stopped himself. Something was different. Aaron was laughing. Tyler had made Aaron laugh. Really, it should have just affirmed Caleb's long-standing belief that Reid was the troublemaker in the group, but the sight was still startling.

Caleb stopped in his tracks, but it was at that point that someone, some crony walked over and whispered in Aaron's ear. He looked up, directly at Caleb, and Tyler followed his eyes. The glare from Aaron was easy to ignore in the light of Tyler's beaming smile. Only a minute passed, at most, before Caleb found himself dragging into a handshake and a one-armed hug--Tyler's voice in his ear, happy and eager. "It's so good to see you, man."

It was so good to be home.

* * *

It was late, so late that it was beginning to be early, but it was a weekend and Caleb didn't care as much about keeping Tyler out. The lights were dimmed and they were sipping the remains of Pogue's beer stash (which had been dutifully hidden in the floorboards of Caleb's room whenever he could steal some from his dad), which had gone stale with age but still tasted--well, like beer.

Tyler was laughing a lot, and Caleb knew he wasn't that drunk, so it had to be genuine. That was the good thing about Tyler. Caleb always knew he was genuine. The dim, yellowed lights were framing his face and at once Caleb felt terribly out of place and terribly at home. There was a weird excitement to this that he couldn't explain. He reached out to touch Tyler's hand--just lightly, just a little. Something flicked across Tyler's face, but he laughed and shook his head. He dismissed it. A note of bravado chimed in Caleb's stomach and he leaned forward, catching Tyler's lips in a kiss.

For a moment, Tyler was still. Then he responded, eyes sliding closed, his arms wrapping around Caleb, twisting his hand in his shirt holding him close. Then, in a turnaround every bit as fast as the previous one, Tyler pushed back, pulling away from Caleb. There was a reluctant but angry vein to it that didn't fade from Tyler's face when he got to his feet, walking over to a window in Caleb's house, leaning against the sill.

Caleb didn't quite know what to think. "Tyler?"

Tyler spun on his heels, looking thoroughly pissed now. His voice was low and biting. "I'm not some crutch for you to cling to when you're failing. We're supposed to be friends."

"You kissed me, Tyler."

"Yeah, like months ago, when my boyfriend died. It's a little late to react to that and a little fucking convenient that you only cared after Sarah cheated on you." So Tyler was hurt. Caleb couldn't really blame him, though the rejection left him reeling a bit. Tyler turned back to the window, picking at the paint a little. It should have been peeling, but Caleb's mom had had the entire house repainted during a lead paint scare when Caleb was a child. Now there were little paint-peel-like ripples in the rubbery thick top coat, where the paint below should have been scraped up but wasn't.

"Tyler." He turned around again, looking quiet and nervous. Caleb hated that look. Tyler had worn it for years when he and Reid had reeked havoc over the school and Caleb hadn't yet been mature enough to realize that Tyler needed a gentler touch if Caleb wanted to have any sort of friendship with him at all. Though that was the old Tyler and things had changed--Tyler had changed, into a more confident and more individual person. It made the shyness feel even more out of place. "Come back and sit down, okay?"

Tyler did, without complaint. He picked up his beer and finished it, looking more at peace by the time he was done. Caleb followed suit, but the same peace did not come over him. "I think you've had a rough week, Caleb."

Caleb laughed, even though it wasn't really funny. He felt torn because some part of him legitimately liked Tyler and he wanted him. He just didn't know how to make Tyler believe him. The night passed, the two falling asleep on the couch together only after Caleb had promised to keep his hands to himself. That morning, Caleb bought a train ticket back to Boston, only telling his mom that he thought he could handle it now and that he wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't try. Tyler had given him a ride to the station, since he once again had needed to abandon his beloved sports car. He took a deep breath and dove in. "So what do I need to do?"

Tyler pulled into a parking spot, right in front of the entrance. "Well, I think you need to get back to Harvard, make it up to your professors, figure out what's going on with Sarah, and move on with your life. But it's going to depend on you."

Caleb laughed, shaking his head. "No, I know all that. What do I need to do to be with you, Tyler."

Tyler looked surprised, tugging on the long sleeves of his sweatshirt. "Caleb, come on."

"No, seriously. I'm serious. What would I need to do?"

Tyler took a deep breath, still looking forward with his hands resting on the wheel. "Go back to school. Get your life back on track. You're better than this flip-flopping crap, and you're smart enough to be doing better in your classes. Settle things once and for all with Sarah. I don't care how much it hurts to talk to her. Call and talk to Pogue and Reid. They're worried about you--and if you're serious about this, then tell them. I don't want to be your secret."

"And then what?"

"It might be nice if you did something kind of--I don't know. I don't know how to say it. Just something kind of. Nice. If you know what I mean."

"Something what?" Tyler made a blurred kind of noise that Caleb could just barely understand. "Romantic?" Tyler was turning a little red across his cheeks. "You want me to woo you, Tyler?"

Tyler laughed, still blushing--possibly even worse now. "Shut up. Never mind. Don't tell Reid about that."

"So, go back to school, settle my life, and then woo you."

"Isn't your train about to leave?" Tyler was a lovely dark shade of red now, he was still laughing but it sounded a little hitched--almost dramatic from his embarrassment. Poor guy.

"I think I can handle that." Caleb changed the subject. "My train doesn't leave for another hour." Tyler looked grateful for the change in topic, coming inside and sitting with Caleb until he needed to leave. It was a buoyant conversation, full of little surface tidbits that didn't say much about what either of them were thinking. All Caleb was thinking was that he could definitely handle that.

Harvard was going to rock.


End file.
